


Glass and Good Luck

by Ailette



Category: Marvel (Comics), New Excalibur - Fandom
Genre: Imported, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-09-03
Updated: 2008-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2214612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/pseuds/Ailette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pub visit changes things between Pete and Brian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Pete Wisdom wasn’t what you would call the typical Englishman, the clichéd Englishman being the perfect gentleman in this case. He matched a lot of the less complimentary stereotypes, though. Always wearing a suit, adding meaningless endearments to the ends of his sentences, and, right now, sitting in a pub and drinking a lot more than most people would in a month in a couple of hours.

At the moment, he was busy observing Braddock trying to turn down the pint TJ was holding out to him over the rim of his own glass. Heh. Brian Braddock, the almighty Captain Britain, unable to just accept a free drink. Unable to just let go and get thoroughly pissed for once. Unable to–

_Oh. Right.  
_

Remembering things wasn’t particularly difficult when you got drunk. No, not at all. It was more a matter of the memory of clicking through countless files at Portwell House suddenly flashing up in bright colours before his eyes that was difficult. Black on white. _Recovering alcoholic_.

Sighing, he got up from the comfort of the bar stool – how much did he have that he thought of these bloody metal things as comfortable? – and knocked the last remnants of his whiskey back before slamming it down onto the counter. In an admittedly far from straight line he made his way over to the rest of Excalibur. Wisdom to the rescue, so to speak.

“Oi, squire. A word.” Without waiting for any kind of reply, he grabbed Brian’s arm and tugged. Captain Britain didn’t move a millimetre. The man stared at him like he was about to ask what this was about. Why did people never just let themselves be rescued? Asking questions didn’t get you to safety, it got you killed. He understood the principle rat-arsed – how difficult could it be?

Changing tactics, he turned to Nocturne, smiling what he hoped was a charming smile at the annoyed looking girl. “Don’t wait up, petal. This’ll take some time. Don’t know if the good Captain here’ll make it back to the pub tonight.” Rushing words wasn’t a good idea when you had trouble forming them in the first place. He should make a mental note or something later.

It was good thinking on Braddock’s part – see, the principle _wasn’t_ that hard to understand – to let himself be dragged out of The Woolf Tavern. It could have become awkward had Pete continued to try and move the big man without his cooperation. Very pleased with himself, he let go of Brian’s arm, moving on to the next part of the plan. Having a smoke.

“Wisdom, what is this about?” Brian asked, shirty, watching Pete as he rummaged through his pockets searching for something. The agent spared him a two-second-glance before he continued his quest. Had to be important then.

“Can’t believe you don’t recognise a rescue operation when you’re the rescuee,” he frowned. “Is that a word?”

Brian just shook his head. “A ‘rescue operation’?”

An energetic nod. “And a damn successful one at that. Ah.” He beamed at the silver flask in his hands. “Huh. That’s not my fags.”

“What the heck are you talking about?”

Another short, disbelieving glance in roughly his direction as Pete was now concentrated on unscrewing the lid. “And you fancy yourself a physik… physh… you know what. Anyway. Let’s get home.”

Brian sighed, deciding it was probably best to go with Wisdom since the other man seemed more then capable of mistaking the dock for the LakeHouse, and then drowning as he tried to enter. Much as Wisdom drove him insane sometimes, that wasn’t something he wanted to happen to him.

Pete started walking, still concentrated on the task of opening the flask, more or less failing at both.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“Mate, there is no such thing as ‘enough’ when it comes to this,” Pete slurred while underlining his point by waving the small silver bottle. A little too enthusiastic maybe, since it left his hand and went flying. Brian had half a mind to just let it fly into the Thames, but caught it out of reflex. Critically, he stared down at it. There was some sort of engraving.

_Good luck on becoming an alcoholic  
_

He only got a short look at it before Pete snatched it back out of his hands.

“That’s… cheery.”

“Last present my dad gave to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Brian felt the urge to smack himself upside the head coming on. He didn’t know anything about his teammate’s family situation. He generally didn’t know all that much about Pete Wisdom.

“Nah, he’s not dead.” Pete shrugged, gaze intense on the flask before he obviously decided to give up on opening it and put it back into his pocket. “That old toerag’ll outlive me out of pure spite.”

Usually, Brian guessed, the statement would have been delivered in a cynical way, making it biting and distant. The way Pete had said it, just using his normal tone of voice, made him sound… hurt. The following words were uttered quieter, obviously not meant for him to hear.

“Who can blame him? It’s my fault his wife’s got shot to bits.”

Brian stopped walking abruptly. “What?”

“Don’t listen to me. I’m too say to drunk anything right,” Pete waved away. Then he cocked his head. “That wasn’t right, was it? Other way ‘round.”

Brian looked at him thoughtfully, blue eyes filled with worry. This was… annoying. Talking to Pete always was. He hadn’t bothered to find a reason, just tracing it back to the fact that Pete Wisdom was, well, _Wisdom_. Abrasive, chain-smoking, harsh, untrusting, embittered, self-loathing, closed off...

He frowned. But that was the first impression he’d ever had of Wisdom. Later, during their time together with the old Excalibur, he’d sometimes seen different sides. He’d seen him bathed in blood, skin and bones broken and not even wincing, without complaining, just a look of acceptance on his face, accepting that he deserved to be hurt. That it was somehow just. He’d seen him storming into suicide missions with no more justification than “This job needs doing.” He’d seen him exclaim that all those skin tights were idiots, albeit heroes, never once accepting to be called one himself. He’d seen him cuddled up with Kitty in an armchair, expression for once careless, eyes only for his girlfriend, completely unaware of the world around him. He’d seen said girl talking about Pete Wisdom with tears in her eyes, damning him for not even giving her the chance to explain, for just running away and _god, she was so sorry she broke his heart_.

“I found people often say truths more readily when they’re drunk,” he eventually said, intently watching for Wisdom’s reaction.

Pete slowly started walking again. It wasn’t far anymore. “That why you fell into the bottle?”

Brian’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”

“British Intelligence.” That and a shrug were the only answers he got, both accompanied by a wry smile. “Sorry?” he offered after they had continued walking in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Don’t apologise,” Brian shook his head. “I should’ve just told you all.” A thought crossed his mind. “That was the ‘rescue operation’?”

“Looked like you needed help there.” Another shrug as they reached the door. Brian took a step forward and began fumbling for the keys.

How did all these facets unfold to this one man? It didn’t make sense. “Thanks.” It felt like he said it to him for the first time.

The door sprang open with a soft click. As he turned around to, if necessary, usher Wisdom in, he saw the brief shock pass over the other man’s face – shock, not surprise, naked shock – before brown eyes were cast down. He _had_ said it for the first time.

***

_Tap, tap, tap.  
_

Brian rolled over to the other side, pressing the pillow against his ear.

_Tap, tap, tap.  
_

He tried to relax further, maybe use the sound of footsteps to finally fall asleep…

_Tap, tap, tap.  
_

There was no need to get up. It was still in the middle of the night, the others hadn’t even come home yet. It was just Wisdom pacing through the hallway. No need to get up.

_Tap, tap, tap.  
_

“I’m trying to sleep here!” The pacing stopped. Brian sighed in relief, about to roll over again when—

_Tap, tap, tap.  
_

He was going to _kill_ Wisdom.

_Tap, tap, tap.  
_

Followed by a knock on the door. It opened almost instantly, letting light fall into the darkened room around the silhouette of Pete Wisdom clinging to the door handle.

“You’re still awake,” he observed happily and strode into the room, pushing the door shut carelessly with his foot before he let himself fall down on the bed in the middle of the room.

“Only thanks to you,” Brian muttered darkly and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at the other man. “What do you want?”

“I’m bored. And horny. And you’re the only one here.”

Brian nearly choked on his breath at the blunt explanation. “What?”

He felt the exasperated look Pete gave him more than saw it. “Don’t play daft. You heard what I said.”

Alright. There was no need to panic. Wisdom was drunk, was all. He’d just have to get him to sleep somehow and tomorrow everything would be back to normal. “You should go to bed, Wisdom,” he suggested carefully.

“You expect me to walk home? Now?” He paused for a second and Brian could see his eyes widen in the dark before they narrowed. “You actually think I live here, don’t you?”

“Um.” Well, this was bad. He’d just assumed Wisdom had moved in before the rest of the team had. The Lake House was MI-13 property after all.

“Ah, never mind. ‘s not like I told you were I live.” Brian was glad to hear the casual tone, but was brought back to what Pete had said earlier when the agent flopped down beside him. Stretching luxuriously and innocently inching closer.

“Wisdom,” he warned, giving him a stern look down his nose.

“Oh, come on. What’s so bad about having a bit of fun? ‘s not like you’re married anymore.”

Brian expected the words to sting – he still missed Meggan, after all – but they didn’t. It was just a clarification, not only for the situation, but also for himself. He wasn’t married anymore. Somehow, he’d never fully realized it until now.

He looked over at Pete, eyes shining slightly in the darkness, making the normal light brown seem nearly black and swallowing every emotion they might have shown in daylight. Not being married anymore wasn’t a reason to suddenly sleep with Wisdom, though.

“Wisdom – Pete.” It seemed inappropriate to call someone by their surname when they where lying in bed with you. Never mind the circumstances. “You’re going to be very sorry about this in the morning. About that, and about the last couple of shots you had. Just go to sleep, I promise I won’t mention this conversation to anyone.”

To his surprise, Pete just shot him a huffish glance and turned on his side. “Like you’d tell anyone I hit on you,” he grumbled into the mattress.

Brian stared at him, wondering if he missed something about what had just been said. Did Pete think he was homophobe? Huh. Good thing they hadn’t known each other during his college time, then. Just because he’d been with Meggan when he and Pete met, didn’t mean he’d never shown interest in men. Heck, he might have even shown interest in Pete, had not there been their respective girlfriends.

A sharp tug on his blanket brought his thoughts to a halt. “Share the bloody covers, will you?”

Slightly baffled, he let go of it long enough for Pete to tug himself in.

“I actually meant for you to use one of the guest rooms and sleep there.”

Pete didn’t even deem it worth an answer. Brian just gave up the blanket and his previous train of thought. Considering the circumstances, it was probably best not to think about things like that anyway. It took him a few moments to realize Pete’s breath had already evened out, chest heaving steadily under the covers.Shaking his head in disbelief, he let his head fall back onto his pillow, for now just accepting the near warmth radiating off Pete as he felt sleep drawing him in.

***

_Pete moaned. A sheen of sweat on his brow, pearling down his cheeks to trickle onto the bed.  
_

_His fingers clenching on Brian’s shoulders, leaving angry marks in their wake. He seemed ready to burst at any moment. Biting down on his lower lip as Brian torturously, slowly worked his way up his body, staring down at him before leaning down and kissing him, pushing his tongue in forcefully, making Pete moan again in the back of his throat.  
_

_Unhastily, he parted his lover’s legs, fingers trailing up the inside of his thigh to come to a halt when his fingers brushed against Pete’s balls, squeezing them just a little. Pete wasn’t idle either. While Brian pinned his wrists into the pillow over his head, he was beginning to work his cock, grabbing it just that little bit harder.  
_

_Wait. How was he touching him when his hands were pinned? Brian looked down into Pete’s eyes again, just as the tugging on his erection got rougher. He snapped his eyes shut, drawing in a sharp breath.  
_

As he opened his eyes again, the world had turned upside down, with brown eyes now above him.

“Braddock? I know I offered earlier, but I suggest the next time you turn a man down, you don’t start in on the fun alone, eh?”

Brian blinked. Once. Twice. And suddenly, the realisation dawned on him that he must have been dreaming before. But it had felt so _real_ , the touch—he looked down, startled to find his own hand wrapped around his cock, not even covered by any layers of fabric, exposed in the mild night air, exposed for the other man to see.

He grabbed for the blanket as if burned by his own flesh and covered himself up, just barely resisting the urge to tug the blanket up to his nose. The look Pete gave him didn’t help. Neither did the fact that he was only centimetres away from his face. It definitely didn’t help when he felt the agent’s hand sneak under the blanket and over his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Brian saw it as an accomplishment that his voice didn’t tremble. Much.

“I’m taking advantage of you while you’re still half asleep.” Smug grin. “It’s only fair; I’m intoxicated after all.”

So they’d both have an excuse in the morning, Brian realized with a notion of disgust. He didn’t want an excuse. And also, he reminded himself, he didn’t want to do this in the first place. It was just hard to remember the exact reasons as the hand wandered around the base of his cock, slowly drawing closer.

“Relax,” Pete whispered and Brian couldn’t suppress the shudder as the word was breathed against his cheek. “I’m not half as drunk as you think I am.”

It shouldn’t be a relief, Brian thought, but it was. He didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of a drunken one-nightstand. The mere thought of sleeping with someone who wasn’t fully himself awakened a deep rooted sense of refusal in his chest. But as he looked up at Pete again, willing his voice to stay steady in his rejection, he saw something in those eyes. Something close to hope, only waiting to be shattered, expecting it.

And Brian found himself nodding, agreeing to this against his better judgement.


	2. Chapter 2

Brian woke up with rays of sunlight playing over his face, feeling content like he hadn’t in a very long time. He turned his head a little to the side to get a look at the reason for the feeling. When he found Pete Wisdom – breathing evenly, still next to him under the covers – he was a little surprised. He’d expected him to run as soon as possible, leaving behind no trace of his having been here last night. They hadn’t gone any further after Pete had finished him off, but still. It was nice he hadn’t fled. Yet.   


Reluctant to wake the other man up, he instead let his gaze wander over him. Pete Wisdom was an attractive man, when you had the chance to look at him at a time when he wasn’t shouting, smoking, drinking or fighting. Granted, he hadn’t seen him like this before.   


“You’re staring.”  


When he looked up again, honey brown eyes were focused on him.   


“Sorry,” he said, but couldn’t suppress a little smile as Pete peeked over to the window and vanished beneath the covers when a stray sunray blinded him. “How’s the hangover?”  


“I don’t _get_ hangovers,” came the muffled reply from beneath the blanket, followed by some strange motions Brian would have described as fidgeting, could he actually see them. “And I don’t do guilt trips. So, if you want to freak out, do that on your own time.”  


“I don’t. Want to freak out, that is,” Brian let the words sink in and watched in interest how the movements under the blanket became a little less erratic. “So. You often assault people in the middle of the night?”  


“Assault?!”   


Brian rolled his eyes. “I don’t remember asking you to help me,” he grinned a little before he continued. He already knew it would sound like a line out of a bad porn movie, “ _take care of things_.”  


The blanket flew back to the end of the bed as Pete resurfaced; hair a complete mess and squinting against the light behind Brian.   


“Oi! I only woke up because you were moaning my name!”  


“You – I what?”  


Pete folded his arms across his chest and indeed managed to look slightly intimidating, despite the rumpled shirt and waist coat and the missing tie. “I was sleeping like the dead until I woke up from your trashing and groaning. And I’m still capable of recognizing my own name, thank you.”   


More than a little embarrassed, Brian turned his head toward the window. Wisdom didn’t need to see him blushing. Enough time passed for him to hear his heartbeat slowing down, little by little.   


“I think it would be best if you’d go now.”   


Only a couple of seconds later, the door was opened harshly and slammed shut again, marking the leave of one angry British intelligence officer. Brian flinched slightly at the noise, hoping everyone was up already so there would be no complaints later. He frowned. Actually it might be better if they still were asleep. As far as he was concerned, not everyone needed to know about Pete storming out of his room in the early morning.   


Sighing, he let his head fall back onto the pillow. He shouldn’t have said that. There was no doubt in his mind that what Pete had said was the truth; the dream was still all too vivid. And not just the dream. When he thought about yesterday – or maybe it had already been today – the way Pete had looked up at him, the way his hand had...  


Alright. Time to get up.  


***

Breakfast went over well. Going by the lazy greetings he got from the rest of the team, no one had seen Pete on his way out. He had barely returned to his room when he heard a knock at his door. A surge of hope washed over him and he hastily stepped forward to get it, ignoring the fact that he was only clad in a loose towel around his waist. Pete had seen more than that the night before anyway. And if he was here now, it would spare him the inconvenience of having to search for him later.  


“Sage!”  


“Expecting someone else?” Standing in the doorframe was his teammate, long hair done up in the usual braid, glasses firmly in place. She made a point of looking him up and down before she swiftly stepped inside, fluidly dodging his arm meant to forestall her entry.   


“No.” It wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t been _expecting_ anyone. He’d just… kind of hoped it might be a certain someone else.   


Sage sank down in the arm chair by the window, gazing out at something he couldn’t see for a while before she turned back to face him, expression clear and stern. He hurriedly went over all the things he’d done since he’d last seen her in his head, coming up with nothing that would deserve that look. His tone was still defensive when he spoke.  


“What?”   


“You and Pete. Didn’t really see that coming.”  


His jaw dropped a little. How did she –? Oh. Of course. Sage had a tendency to monitor things. He just hadn’t known his bedroom was one of them. Should he feel flattered or offended by that breach of privacy? The thought process must have showed on his face.  


“I wasn’t spying on you. But, after you and Pete left the pub, TJ asked me to look where you were off to. She was worried. Can you blame her after what happened in  Korea ?”  


Brian winced at the memory. Pete and he usually were at each other’s throats most of the time, just never this _literally_. They had later traced their irrational behaviour back to Cyttorak and his minions, but still… it had only strengthened the things that had already been there; had already lurked in the back of his mind.   


He could still hear the sickening sound of Pete being thrown against that tree, the way his spine had cracked mutedly under the impact, the blood spilling from Pete’s lips —  


“Brian, stop thinking about it. That’s not what I’m here for.”  


Delicately, he brought his focus back to the present. What could Sage possibly have to tell him? If she already knew about what had happened with Pete and him last night, there was no reason to rub it in his face now. It wasn’t like Sage to do something this petty. And she wasn’t that close to Pete anyway. Of course, Pete had tried to charm his way into her pants but nothing had happened between them.  


He inhaled sharply. But it had. When they were in Camelot, TJ had told him how Pete hadn’t made it back to his room the night before And Sage had gone with him in the morning.   


“I’m so sorry, Sage. I swear it didn’t mean anything. He was a little drunk; I was exhausted and off-guard, so we did something stupid. You know how he is. He probably would’ve tried his luck with the statue in the hall if I hadn’t been here.” It stung to admit it, but it was true. He’d heard enough rumours about Pete’s nightly activities to know that at least some of them had to be true. And, even if he took only those in consideration, there were still more than he cared to admit. There was even a very constant whisper about Pete being married to a faerie against his will; an arranged marriage, only there to keep the peace between Otherworld and this realm. Brian inwardly shook his head at the thought. Some people had just too much free time when they came up with stuff like this.   


Sage waved the apology aside with a short flick of her wrist. “I still don’t know why everyone thinks I had something with Pete,” she held a hand up before Brian could say anything. “And I’m not sure I even want to. What I want to know is, if your fling with Pete didn’t mean anything, how come he’s still moping about?”  


Brian’s eyes widened a little. “He’s still here?” A chance to talk to him. To set things straight. To apologise.   


“Either that, or someone made a fire on the balcony,” she gestured for him to come closer to the window. As he looked out, he could see the column of smoke reaching up into the sky from the backside of the house. “Would you really fool around with someone who doesn’t mean anything to you?”  


The question was rhetorical, Brian knew, but he still found himself wondering about it. There hadn’t been many serious relationships in his life. In college, there had been Courtney, of course, and she’d been everything but irrelevant. After her he’d tried his luck with different people, but nothing had ever lasted long enough to get really serious. Not much later Meggan had entered his life. He’d married her. He’d had his share of short-lived relationships. But surely it wasn’t his fault his partners would later break up with him by stating he might become a little too attached for their liking.  


Sage nodded, a look of satisfaction in her expression. “Good. Now go and sort this thing out, because we’ve got enough tension running in this team without you two having a falling out over nothing.” And with that, she got up. At the door, she stopped shortly. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t care what you decide to do now, I just care about the team running smoothly. And if you want good advice, you should maybe put some clothes on or the outcome of that conversation is already settled.”  


***

When Brian reached the balcony about half an hour later, he was relieved to find Pete still there. Propped up on his elbows on the wide marble railing, he was looking out over the green beneath him, completely unaware of the newly arrived man behind him. He appeared unwound in a way that reminded Brian of his impression of the sleeping man this morning, suit still utterly dishevelled, tie still missing and the black jacket lying on the ground in a heap.   


“Wisdom.”  


Pete jerked upright, nearly knocking the ashtray next to him down. When he turned around, his eyes were gleaming with dark humour, but no sign of surprise was to be found. “Back to the surnames, are we?”  


Brian just shook his head. It had been out of habit, the name rolling of his tongue before he could fully think about it. If Pete reacted like this to the first word he said, maybe he should approach the topic of his being here carefully. “Sage told me you’re here.”  


“I fancied a smoke. You got a problem with that?”   


At the hostile tone, Brian made a point of looking decidedly at the jam-packed ashtray which was making it more than obvious Pete had been here for a couple of hours already.   


“Oh, sod off,” he grumbled half-heartedly and turned his back to Brian. Who just sighed in a long suffering manner and stepped next to Pete, mimicking his pose.   


“I shouldn’t have kicked you out,” he offered. When there was no response, he decided to carry on, starting with a more casual topic to ease the silent anger radiating from Pete. “So… where _do_ you live?”  


Pete drew a deep breath through the cigarette in his hand, letting his eye lids flicker shut for a moment. “Like I’d tell you.”  


The temptation to smash Pete’s skull against the nearest wall was back. Comforting, that, in a weird way. “Come on. Talk to me. I only came out here to apologise,” Brian ground through his teeth.  


Exhaling a long stream of smoke, Pete put his head on his hands, a gesture of mock interest. “You mean to make amends. Who made you? TJ? Ali? Sage? Can’t imagine Cain’s behind it.”  


“What?” He didn’t have to fake the surprise in his voice. “I came down here on my own!”  


Unimpressed, Pete brought the fag back up to his lips, making a show of inhaling before bothering with a reply. “Sage probably. Since you admitted it was her who told you I was here.”  


“Now, listen to me, Wisdom. No one made me do anything. I talked to Sage and she agreed I should talk to you for the sake of the team. But _I_ decided to talk to you.”  


“Yeah, right.” He blew the smoke directly into Brian’s face.  


Brian clenched his teeth, barely keeping his temper in check. Pete was trying to wind him up, he had to keep that in mind.  


“Besides, she shouldn’t worry about me. I’m not the one starving so much for attention that I fall for the first drunk that crosses my way.”  


With the next step forward Brian had Wisdom at his collar, shoving him up against and the railing. Anger grinding through him, his fists shaking slightly around the fabric of Wisdom’s shirt and at his own side. The cigarette fluttered to the ground.  


“Do it,” came the snarl from above and when he looked up through narrowed eyes, he could see that same expression he’d seen in  Korea . Brown eyes flaring with anger, mocking him with their feigned vulnerability while their owner was everything but; ready to take everything Brian would dish out and give back as good as he got. The eyes of a petulant child refusing to run after their parents as they left him behind because he was crying.   


“No,” Brian forced out, firmly planting Wisdom back on the ground. He wouldn’t let himself be pushed to do this. Not again. Pressing himself to remember his reasons for coming here, trying desperately to control his easily fuelled temper. This wasn’t why he came here. But he couldn’t uncurl his fists, holding the other man exactly where he was.   


Pete glared at him and tried to smack his hands away from him. As he failed, Brian caught the faint impression of panic in his eyes before it was shadowed by the overwhelming fury, making his pupils dilate.   


“Let me go.” The false calm Pete used wouldn’t have fooled a deaf man, but probably would have made him take a step back.   


“No,” Brian heard himself repeat what he’d said before, the tranquillity in his voice every bit as fake as Pete’s and yet convincing.   


Without any transition, Pete had his hands up, fingertips blazing with the surreal fire of his Hot Knives. He was about to recur his demand, but Brian could see the way the Hot Knives hadn’t yet inflamed to full heat and were carefully held away from him, so he cut him off before he could utter one word.   


“Just listen to me for once!”   


The white fire flared up in front of him and he pushed Pete against the wall. He could feel the way Pete’s chest deflated, literally having his breath knocked out of him as his body hit the bricks. If he did this with more force than was absolutely necessary, it was only Pete’s fault for winding him up in the first place.   


They stared at each other wordlessly for minutes. Pete was crackling with energy, his body growing hotter and hotter under Brian’s fingers, but he didn’t let go. He was waiting for something. They both were. But they didn’t know for what. The crackle continued, seeming to jump out of Pete’s eyes in sparks, infecting the air around them; making it sing in disharmony. The sound was met by long, steady drumbeats, and it took Brian a second to realize that they were coming from him; that they were seeping out of him like the static that came from Pete, meeting where they touched, mingling and wrestling for a new, harmonious tune.   


Suddenly, the roar made sense to him; taking him in, welcoming him to the newfound melody, dictating his movements according to the notes. He leaned forward, not surprised to meet Pete halfway, because it made sense now. It all followed the same, steady rhythm. In time with the rhythm, their lips met, Pete opening up under him, inviting him in. The world faded away as they stood there, pressed against each other, tongues dancing to the music that created the world anew. Building around them, transforming colours and shapes into something new, something just as colourful without actually having colour.   


But the new world didn’t matter when Brian could feel Pete’s skin vibrate under his fingers, could drum the beat over muscles usually hidden by too many layers of clothing as his hands travelled down his body, tuning it for the concert that was already beginning. A new theme entered the music as Pete gasped and let his head fall back against what had been a solid wall only minutes ago. Brian could hear himself join in when his partner’s attention was fully focused on him. The song grew louder, faster, changing into a perfect crescendo, completely carrying them away.   


***

Pete was still wheezing when he started to speak. “When did we… reach your… room?”  


“I’m not sure,” Brian said, staring at the ceiling in wonder. They were sprawled across the floor, Pete lying on his stomach and resolutely refusing to move, opposed to Brian who’d at least rolled off him to give him a little more space to breathe. It was hard to actually _remember_ his last conscious breath. “Though I’m more wondering about why we didn’t make it to the bed. It’s the same distance from the door as the wall and it would’ve been a lot more comfortable.”   


Then again, he hadn’t cared about anything being comfortable. He hadn’t cared about anything but Pete for the last – he threw a glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand – four hours. Well. Wow.   


The music had subsided to a very low humming by now, encircling the both of them on the ground, easing them back into the muted reality.   


“I don’t know… I think I actually like your wall,” Pete admitted thoughtfully, turning his head just a little to look at said wall. He took pride in the fact that he didn’t blush at the sight of the mess they had made there.   


Brian chuckled low in his throat, laying an arm across his eyes, just relaxing into the afterglow. His brain slowly picked up work again, reminding him softly that he should remember his actions would have consequences. He ignored it at first, but the nagging got more and more insistent, eventually overpowering every other thought. He hated to be the one to break the peaceful mood.  


“Where does this leave us then?”   


Pete continued to look at the wall, considering the question for some time before answering. “We’ve got way too many differences for this to work as anything remotely serious. So let’s just take it as what it is, simple as that. No going touchy-feely and no more freak outs.”  


_ But what about the music? Didn’t you hear the music? _ Brian wanted to shout, but stopped himself. He’d always been very perceptive of his surroundings, the supernatural as well as the natural. It was possible Pete hadn’t heard it. More than just possible.    


“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/22065.html; now discontinued)  
> Beta: freakydarling ! Thanks again. :D  
> A/N: Oh, beware the Metaphors of Doom in this one. They are actually important for the plot. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/21220.html)  
> Beta: freakydarling ! You're awesome! XD  
> A/N: So, while I was reading Captain Britain and MI13, I fell in love with Pete Wisdom. And after reading older stuff, the pairing simply fascinated me. This story takes place some time after New Excalibur #15 but before #16. Just to give you a genral idea of the timeline. :D


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